Electric Feel
by inspired.by.them
Summary: Anastasia Steele is a stripper who goes by the name "Scarlett Heat". Christian Grey is the CEO of a billion dollar company. By chance, they meet one night. Can they form a relationship, or are they just too different? After all, opposites do attract.
1. Chapter 1

Christian liked slutty behavior… In his playroom, that is. In public places? Not so much.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Elliot hollered, downing his fourth beer of the night.

Christian ignored his brother, wanting to get the hell out of the bar as soon as possible. His mother had begged him to spend more quality time with his family, so Christian decided that the least he could do is spend a Friday night with his oldest sibling - which turned out to be a _very_ bad idea. He would rather be looking at paint chips and wallpaper fabrics with Mia, instead of listening to his brother's sex jokes and vulgar suggestions.

"I'm not going to a strip club," Christian declared, not amused in the slightest. He took a swig of his whiskey, then later regretted such actions. For the life of him, he could never understand why Elliot insisted on spending money at such low-class places.

"Bro… Are you gay?" Elliot asked, genuinely concerned. Christian rolled his eyes, "I know you've never brought a girl home and you act like you don't even care about sex-"

"-I'm not gay, Elliot," Christian reassured, his tone somewhat humorous. Oh, if only his family knew what he _really_ did on the weekends. "I just prefer to experience certain… _Intimacy_ in the privacy of my own home," he finished, taking another swig of his whiskey. He grimaced. God, it was like he was poisoning himself.

"See, that's your problem," Elliot yelled over the chatter of the pub, leaning closer to his brother, "You never get out of your comfort zone. You're too pent up. Let go of some of that control and enjoy the waves for once, baby!" Elliot slammed his fists on the bar table, whooping and hollering.

Christian frowned. "I… 'enjoy the waves' all the time. I take the boat out, I go parasailing-"

"Dude, shut the fuck up," Elliot interrupted, "Everything you just mentioned can be done by a sixty-year old grandpa. Hell, look at you," he gestured towards Christian, "You're wearing a fucking suit to a bar. A bar where they sell _two_ dollar beers."

 _I've done shit you've never even seen before,_ Christian silently spat at Elliot, but didn't respond. In a way, Elliot was right - the only time Christian really let loose was when he was with one of his submissives - but even then, he was always in control. Maybe, for once, he should just be a normal twenty-seven year old.

"I'm not saying that I'm going to enjoy this…" Elliot perked up at Christian's words, his eyes lighting up like a child's in a candy store, "but I guess we could go… But only for a half hour," Christian agreed, somewhat already regretting his decision.

Elliot slammed his fists on the bar table once again, "Hell fucking yeah!"

* * *

"I tell you, bro, this is going to be the best night of your fucking life," Elliot assured, practically bouncing up and down. Christian rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity. How could he _possibly_ be the oldest sibling?

Christian and Elliot walked down the street towards the club, the fluorescent light of " _Vixen"_ stripclub glittering in the distance. As they grew closer, Elliot got more excited, while Christian filled with dread. He didn't know what to expect - would they try to touch him? More than anything, he hated when someone invaded his personal space, and strippers relied on touch in order to please their customers. He contemplated walking back to his car, but decided that his brother would, in fact, think he was gay - and even worse, would never let him hear the end of it.

He could hear his brother now: _Hey, everybody, I tried to take Christian to a strip club and he fucking chickened out!_

 _No,_ Christian thought to himself, _I'll suck it up. What's the worse that could happen?_

"So, these strippers… Do they touch you?" Christian asked, feigning an air of nonchalant curiosity.

"Woah, look who's a little hornball," Elliot teased, "they'll touch you in all the right places for a few extra bucks during a private dance."

Okay, so all he had to do was avoid a private dance. He could do that; it wasn't like the thought was all that attractive in the first place. He didn't know those girls or what kind of diseases they carried. He wasn't one to play into stereotypes, but come on - they're half naked every night - and most don't make their money off of simple show-and-tell.

They finally reached the entrance, where Elliot opened the door wide and beckoned Christian inside. "Ladies first," he teased, swatting Christian on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up," Christian muttered.

The stripclub was dimly lit, the flashing, colorful lights casting shadows on the many faces inside. It was a full house, with old and young men alike - even some women were present. The club was smoky and smelled of cigars and cigarettes; maybe even a hint or marijuana here and there. A techno sound played through the stereos as scantily-clad females walked around, taking the orders of the many men inside the establishment.

Christian didn't fit in at all.

Elliot, on the other hand, had already left his side to go chat up a tall, petite blonde at the bar. He rolled his eyes, but contemplated following him. He knew that Elliot wouldn't want him cockblocking him - and he had no idea how to be a wingman - so he stood at the entrance of the stripclub looking rather awkward.

He felt like a lanky, pubescent teen just standing there with his dick tucked between his legs, so he mentally steeled himself and rolled his shoulders back, making sure to exuberate confidence. He worked hard to get to where he is now, and he'd be damned if he loses control over a seedy club filled with old geezers, horny youngsters, and a few promiscuous women.

He sauntered over to the main stage, where a curvaceous woman with raven-colored hair was finishing her act. She was pretty, but not Christian's type. It was slightly entertaining to watch her bend, twist, and shake - but not entertaining enough to see what all the rave was about. If anything, he'd pay more money to see these women tied up and writhing underneath him.

Her act ended with a chorus of hoots and hollers, all the men - and a few women - enjoying the sight of her body. She bowed and blew the audience a kiss, collecting her money and her top off of the stage before exiting. Christian loosened his tie and settled back into his chair. He had twenty-five more minutes left, so he decided he might as well get comfortable.

The announcer stated that a _Scarlett Heat_ would be coming on next, which made the crowd go wild. Christian raised an eyebrow. Apparently this _Scarlett Heat_ was very popular, which peaked his interest. While he waited for the stripper to take her place on stage, he ordered a Bourbon, which tasted much better than the one from the bar they had just came from. He sighed contently as it slid smoothly down his throat. As he sipped his drink and lounged in his chair, he realized that this place wasn't as bad as he had thought. No one could see each other, so there was no awkward conversation. The liquor was good and the women were pretty, even if they weren't exactly his type.

Suddenly, the bright stage light dimmed, taking on a reddish hue. The audience buzzed excitedly, the men already taking out their wallets. Christian sat up, his elbows perched on the table in front of the stage. He had no idea what to expect, but the suspense was exciting him _and_ making him anxious. About ten seconds later, he saw a pale, toned leg peek out from the left side of the stage. The men whistled, a few already throwing their dollars.

A body soon followed, and _boy_ was it a nice body. The girl was petite, yet curvy - if that was even possible. Her pale skin contrasted against the bright, sparkling red outfit she had on. Her breasts were full and strained against her brassiere, while her ass was tight and full. It wasn't too much - just the right amount to be enjoyable.

She winked at the men, a small smirk crossing her scarlet-tinted lips. She bit her lip, causing Christian to take a quick breath. Something about her biting her lip caused a stirring in his pants. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He mentally cursed himself - he was exactly like the old geezers sitting a few seats down from him.

The girl flicked her hair over her shoulders, the mahogany brown ringlets cascading down her back. She stepped towards the pole, gliding along it smoothly. She settled in the front of the pole, her back to the audience - directly in Christian's line of sight. She kneeled down, the movement causing her tight shorts to accentuate the outline of her ass even further.

Christian felt like he might die.

She sat still for a moment, Christian still mesmerized by her form. Suddenly, a hypnotic, upbeat song blasted through the speakers, which prompted the brunette to move. She rolled her head - sultrily - to the beat, her hair swinging with each movement. She slowly stood up, her hips swiveling and her hands roaming across her body. She started at her thighs, then roamed up towards the sides of her body, and finally her shoulders. She looked over her shoulder, a seductive smirk planted on her face.

She grabbed the pole once again, this time she wrapped her right leg around the pole and spun, her left leg sticking out. The men whistled and jeered, throwing more money onto the stage. She climbed higher up, spinning this time with both legs outstretched. Christian was flabbergasted, wondering how a person could do such things.

Not that he was complaining.

She slid down the pole, once again back on the ground. She continued to swivel her hips, this time walking closer to the audience. She ran her fingers down her body, slightly squeezing her breasts when she reached them. She licked her lips, crouching down on her hands and knees. She crawled towards certain men, blowing them kisses. They each took turns placing money in the waistband of her shorts. Christian frowned as he watched her, unhappy with the way the men looked at her and touched her. He was almost… Territorial.

She got off the ground and walked back towards the pole, grinding seductively on the cool metal. She shook her head to the beat of the song, her hair whipping across her face and body. She held onto the pole while she leaned backwards, her face upside down to the audience. As she looked back, she made eye contact with Christian. His jaw tightened and he held onto the table harder. She smiled at him, then bit her lip.

Christian groaned, trying to tame the lascivious and immoral thoughts he had of what he'd like to do to her. As the song sped up, the beat dropping, _Scarlett Heat's_ movements became more erratic… More wild and untamed. She walked around the pole, taking a quick spin, then she stood in the center of the stage. She reached around her back, unstrapping the hooks on her brassiere. Christian watched, his eyes trained on her every movement. To his surprise, they were met with a pair of red, dangling pasties as she dropped her top onto the stage. She raised her arms, moving her chest suggestively. The men clapped and whistled, as if _not_ seeing all of her exposed form turned them on more. She continued her dance, her movements getting more erotic and lustful as the song continued.

Christian loosened his tie even more - and briefly deliberated if he should unzip his pants, but thought better of it - before he opened his wallet. He pulled out two bills, clasping them between his index and middle fingers. He beckoned her towards him, to which she smirked and slowly made her way down the stage. She bent down, opening the waist to her shorts. Christian placed the money in her shorts, making sure to lightly touch the skin of her abdomen.

She quickly grabbed his hand and moved in closer, her lips right to his ear. "It's gonna cost a little bit more if you want to touch, sweetheart," she whispered, licking the outer skin of his ear. Her voice was like wind chimes, smooth and melodious. If he wasn't seeing with his own eyes how seductive she was, he would've thought she was young and innocent from her voice alone.

Christian grabbed her tighter, not wanting to let her go. Her eyes grew wide, to which he immediately loosened his grip. He didn't want to scare her for Christ's sake. She stood up, taking quick glances in Christian's direction every few moments. She did a few more turns on the pole and her dance was finished. The men clapped and cheered, throwing more money at her. She collected every single bill, then hesitated when she bent down to reach her top. She looked at Christian before she retrieved it off the ground and threw it in his direction. He caught it without thinking, the shimmery fabric feeling rough across his skin.

She smirked, then turned around and sashayed off the stage, her ass cheeks slightly hanging out the ends of her shorts. Christian licked his lips and shook his head. With her gone, the men quieted down and talked amongst themselves. Christian, however, was still staring at the stage; wondering what the hell just happened to him. He came to a stripclub - which he never would've done in a million years - and ended up being completely mesmerized by a random brunette who calls herself _Scarlett Heat._ To make things even crazier, he gets to walk away with her top. He shook his head, still dazed.

"Woah, go get 'em tiger," Elliot praised, gesturing towards the bright red top placed in Christian's hands, "someone must've liked you."

Christian furrowed his eyebrows, "Yeah, I think I liked them too."

* * *

 _ **This idea has been in my head for a while, so I finally got it down on paper (or my computer screen, to be technical). Tell me what you think.**_

 _ **-Xoxo**_


	2. Chapter 2

As Christian strolled along the same sidewalk he had graced with his older brother the prior week, he couldn't help but to feel like a pervert. He pulled his coat tighter around him, peeking over his shoulder to see if anyone could see him. In retrospect, it was quite silly that he would be embarrassed about a strip club, considering his more taboo sexual obsession. He wondered how the tabloids would react if his BDSM lifestyle were ever exposed.

They'd have a field day…

He had ordered Taylor to wait in the car, which was parked about three blocks away. Christian wasn't sure why he felt so ashamed - Taylor had seen him suspend a woman from his ceiling, for God's sake; but Christian realized it wasn't the strip club he was ashamed by, it was the woman he couldn't help but to feel smitten with. Considering his childhood, he knew what that kind of environment does to a woman. Why would he be attracted to someone like that?

 _Maybe she's different._

He snorted - doubtful. The club's neon lights blared in the distance as he grew closer. As he listened to his dress shoes tap against the concrete, the hypnotic club music grew louder with each step. He took a deep breath, the air from his lungs visible in the dark night. He shoved his hands deeper inside of his coat pocket, mentally preparing himself for however the night would turn out.

Soon enough he stood outside the door of the club. It wasn't too late to turn back, he thought, but then scolded himself for overreacting to the ordeal. Was what he was doing so wrong or weird? No, it was normal. Thousands of people come to strip clubs, and dozens of them go home with the stripper of their choice…

He had never prospected for a submissive without Elena's help. The thought of doing so was exciting, yet terrifying. It was a new area of exploration for him, one that he could either completely fail at, or one where he could strike gold. Scarlett Heat was already very familiar with poles, surely she couldn't be scared off by a little suspension. Hell, she might be good at it.

With that thought, Christian pulled open the door to "Vixen" and was once again greeted with the tinge of cigarettes and the vibrations of the speaker. The lights flashed on and off, the colors shifting from shades of blues and greens to purples and pinks. Unlike last week, the stripclub was eerily empty, with only a few stragglers scattered around the bar and stage. The hostesses looked thoroughly bored, their glamorous faces pinched into expressions of annoyance and apathy.

There was one lady on the stage, but she was less than captivating. She gyrated on the pole, but lacked any real skill or stage presence. The men watching her, however, were still polite - out of kindness or drunkenness, Christian wasn't sure. Instead of taking a seat around the stage like last week, he walked over to the bar and decided to inquire about the notorious Scarlett Heat.

"Jack on the rocks," Christian ordered, loosening his tie as he sat perched on the barstool.

The bartender nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turned around to fix his drink. A few moments later she returned with his beverage and stood expectantly, eyeing his attire and expensive watch. Christian rolled his eyes and opened his wallet, pulling out a crisp bill and sliding it across the counter. She smiled cheekily, winking before turning away to attend to the next customer.

He sipped slowly from his glass, every once in awhile turning toward the stage to see who the next dancer would be. He made sure to arrive around the same time he did last week, to be certain that he wouldn't miss her performance. As the time dragged on, he started to believe maybe he _had_ missed her.

He whistled at the bartender, beckoning her over to him. She turned around, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders. She pursed her lips, leaning over the counter with her chin in her hands. She smiled.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice polite, although there was an undertone of impatience.

"That dancer - Scarlett Heat - what time does she come on?" Christian questioned, his voice gruff. He took another sip from his glass, eyeing his watch for the third time.

"She doesn't," she replied, standing up. She looked down at her nails, a snarky expression on her face. "She's doing private dances today," she added on in a mocking tone. "The bitch just got here and she's already calling the shots."

"How can I get one?"

The bartender rolled her eyes, her shoulders slouching. She looked at him as if he were clueless. "Why don't you go ask? She's up there," she replied, pointing to a small door upstairs. There was a large, burly man placed in front of the entrance, his arms crossed and his face impassive.

Christian stood, tightening his tie and readjusting his watch. He raised his empty glass in acknowledgement. "Thanks," he said curtly.

"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled, waving her hand dismissively.

Christian walked across the smoggy club, the blaring lights and wisps of secondhand smoke disrupting his view of the other patrons. There was a long, winding stairway that led to the club's second floor, the banister decorated in bright pink, fluorescent christmas lights. He ascended the staircase, coming face to face with the bald, grumpy-looking bouncer he had eyed from the bar. The man was at least five inches taller than Christian. He gave him an inquisitive look, waiting for Christian to speak.

"I'm looking for a private dance," Christian declared, feeling slightly emasculated as he looked up at the man.

The bouncer didn't speak, but raised his hand to knock on the door, his body slightly twisted to the side. "Scarlett," he yelled out, his voice tinged with a Welsh accent, "Someone wants a dance."

There was shuffling on the other side of the door and later emerged the brunette from last week. Her outfit was red once again, but she had on a pair of tight, sparkly boy shorts and a red and black corset.

She cocked her head to the side, a playful but questioning look on her face. She stepped aside, gesturing for Christian to enter the room. "Thanks, Sonny," she sang, patting him on the chest before shutting the door behind her.

"Get comfortable," she suggested, walking towards the center of the room.

The room was decorated nicely, with mirrors placed from wall to wall. Behind Christian stood a row of plush, velvet sectionals. A hodgepodge of vintage portraits hung above the sectionals - adding to the atmosphere of the room - and soft, black ottomans sat ornamentally around the area. The lights were tinged a deep red, placing a delicate flush over Scarlett's pale skin.

Christian awkwardly rolled his shoulders, not sure exactly what she had meant by 'get comfortable.' She smirked and pushed his shoulders, driving him towards the sectionals. Christian stiffened slightly, backing away from her touch. He sat down on the soft sofa with his hands in his lap.

"Do you want to watch or do you want to touch?" She asked, backing up towards the pole that was positioned directly in Christian's line of view. She spun around the pole heedlessly, waiting for Christian to make a decision.

"Touch… I think" He replied, still unsure of what 'touching' actually entailed. He was quite unsure of the whole procedure, actually. Instead of watching her on stage, he was forced to interact with her. His usual confidence and domineering attitude were lost on him - he couldn't proposition her. She wasn't like the other submissives; he didn't even know if she would be open to the things that Christian liked.

"You're new here, aren't you?" She asked, but it sounded more like a statement. She climbed to the top of the pole, sliding down softly and gracefully. She walked towards him and sat on his lap, her legs placed adjacently to his. "You don't actually get to touch me, it's against the rules - but I don't know, I kind of like you."

She ran her fingers through his copper colored hair and swiveled around so that her back was now facing him. She gyrated her hips, slowing moving her hands down his thigh. Christian inhaled quickly, feeling himself get hard in his pants. He exhaled slowly, loosening his tie and rubbing the skin on his neck.

He was dying to touch her. To feel her skin on his fingertips. He wanted to know how her flesh against his flesh would feel, what she would taste like. He could already smell her - lilac and a hint of strawberries. Her body felt warm against his and it was painfully enticing. To keep himself from breaking the rules and having to deal with the hulk of a man on the other side of the door, he decided to answer her question.

"Yes. Very new," he admitted, his voice tight with the stress of trying to keep himself composed.

She looked over her shoulder, the quick movement causing the wisps of her mahogany colored hair to tickle the skin on Christian's face. "Ah, so you're a 'Vixen' virgin," she teased, sliding off of his lap to kneel on the ground. She opened his legs slightly wider, running her hands through the insides of his thighs. Her movements were slow, rhythmic, and deliberate as she moved her hands towards his groin. She stopped once she reached the bulge in his pants, her pale, petite hand resting on the protrusion far longer than necessary. "Happy to see me?" She mumbled.

Christian closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully, his hands balling into fists at his side.

 _Do not touch, do not touch, do not touch._

"Ecstatic," he quipped, a slight edge to his tone.

She giggled, leaning back onto her heels. Christian opened his eyes at the sound, pleased and confused by how much he liked hearing her laugh. It was relaxing, almost therapeutic.

"Do you have any special requests?" She asked, looking up at him expectantly.

He cocked an eyebrow, unsure of where this exchange was leading to.

"Maybe you should rephrase that," he suggested, "I believe we're both having very different thoughts."

She half-smiled, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. "Would you like for me to dance a certain way? We can continue like this, or I could use the pole…" She trailed off, gesturing towards the long, metal bar that stood dead center of the room.

Christian grunted, running his fingers through his hair. "How about we talk?" He asserted, eager to know more about this strange and intriguing girl. If he were ever going to make a sub out of her, he needed to know her likes and dislikes, her preferences, her history and living standards. He needed to know _her_ … And his suggestion also may have had a little to do with the thought that he wouldn't be able to refrain from touching her if she continued her little routine.

She frowned, looking confused. "Like dirty talking? I mean, I'm down for whatever, I've just never actually done that with a client-"

"No," Christian interrupted, "I mean actual talking. I'd like to get to know you."

She paused, pursing her lips. Her expression was hard to read - even for Christian, who was an expert at exploiting people based on their emotions - but she looked unsure, almost suspicious of his true intentions.

"Why?" She asked after a long beat.

"I… Like you," Christian answered. It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't a complete truth. Sure, he liked how she looked and how she acted. Hell, her job was built on pleasing people - she'd be an excellent sub; but he wasn't actually sure that he liked her in general.

She snorted. "Haven't heard that in a long time," she muttered under her breath.

She stood up and took a seat next to Christian. She turned her body towards him, her knee slightly touching his. She stared at him, her eyes peaked as if waiting for something. Her expression mimicked that of the bartender's downstairs, and suddenly Christian realized what she was waiting for. He rolled his eyes, taking out his wallet once again.

 _These girls are driving me bankrupt._

He took out a bill and handed it to her, which she gracefully took. She smiled and tucked it into her shorts waistband; however, her expression didn't vanish. She sat waiting for more. Christian raised his eyebrows, pulling out two more bills.

"Uh uh," she coaxed, eyeing his wallet. He pulled out one more bill. "Mmhm," she approved, beaming. "Thank ya, darlin'," she responded in a mock southern accent.

Christian leaned forward, his forearms propped on his quadriceps. He peered over at her, trying to understand the peculiar girl who sat next to him. Her thoughts and emotions were a mystery, hidden behind her 'professional' facade. He didn't know exactly how she felt about him, nor could he discern the fact. She had said that she liked him, but how much so was still unknown.

"What's your name?" He asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. Obviously she couldn't know that he was going to order Taylor to do a full background check on her.

"Scarlett," she answered, deliberately daft.

"Your real name," Christian clarified.

She crossed her legs, her arms folded. "Clients and dancers are specifically on a need-to-know basis."

"I need to know."

She narrowed her eyes. "For what?"

"So I can get to know you… I'm interested."

She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to his statement. She didn't trust him - they both knew that, but no other client had ever asked her about herself. No client pretended to be interested in anything else but her body, so she felt somewhat flattered. She wasn't sure of Christian's intentions, but he had returned to the club to see her. Maybe he was genuinely interested.

"Ana," she responded.

"Last name?" He asked.

"Need-to-know," she reminded, uncrossing her legs and turning sideways, her legs folded Indian-style.

"I'll find out," he mumbled to himself, pulling the lapels of his suit jacket.

Ana raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"How long have you worked here?" Christian prodded, completely ignoring her previous question.

"Two months. You didn't answer my question."

"I don't intend to," He declared, his CEO persona kicking in. The desire to uncover every inch of this strange girl's past and present burned deep inside of him. "The bartender downstairs, why doesn't she like you?"

Ana rolled her eyes, scoffing at his question. Her eyes hardened at the mere mention of the girl. "Raven? She's a bitch. A jealous bitch," she growled.

"I'm guessing there's some type of bad blood?"

"It's not bad - it's rotten."

Christian made a mental note to find out more about this Raven. She could be a potential danger to Ana, which would definitely hinder his chances of finding a new sub.

"Why do you work here? You're new, so I'm assuming this was a last resort."

"Stripping is always a last resort. No woman wants to turn to this… Well, actually, I take that back," she muttered, looking up as if thinking of her coworkers who enjoyed their job. "In my case, however, it was a last resort."

"Why?" Christian inquired, his eyebrows knitting together. He stared deeply at her, trying to ascertain why someone as beautiful as her would ever resort to this lifestyle.

That's the age old question. You've spent twenty-three years trying to figure that out.

Christian ignored his subconscious, waiting on Ana's answer.

"Fast money," she answered simply, staring down at her hands. An unreadable expression crossing her face.

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" Christian speculated, red flags going off in his head. A female with baggage is not what he needed.

She pursed her lips, rolling her shoulders back, "What do you count as trouble?"

"Drugs, arrest warrants, stalkers, pimps…" Christian trailed off, not wanting to even take a step down that road.

She laughed, clutching her stomach and letting out a slight snort. She quickly clasped her hands over her face, embarrassed, but laughing even harder at the discordant sound. Christian smirked, confused and amused by her preposterous reaction. He had never met someone so… Free.

"No, no," she said in between spurts of laughter, "I don't have to deal with any of those problems."

"So then what's the issue? Why would a…"

"Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one year old need fast money?"

She sighed, unfolding and refolding her legs. "How old are you?"

"Don't change the subject."

"You're asking me all of these questions, it's only fair if I get to ask some as well."

"Twenty-seven," he obliged. "Now what kind of trouble are you in?"

"I don't like to think of it as trouble… More as a 'situation', you could say."

He frowned, not following where she was going. "Elaborate."

"You're bossy, aren't you?" She asked, turning her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. "We might not get along."

"No, I'm not bossy. If I want something, I get it. That's a positive quality to have."

"Yeah, well, Hitler wanted all Jewish people dead and he almost succeeded. Do you think that's positive?"

Christian rolled his eyes. "Two different contexts."

"Same qualities," she countered.

Christian sputtered. "You're comparing me to Hitler?" He exclaimed, offended. He knew he was a jackass, but not that much of a jackass.

She swatted his arm playfully. "Don't be mad; you're like the Hillary Clinton version.

He shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or frown. "Are you going to keep dodging my question."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Probably," she admitted, "especially since your time's up."

Christian checked his watch. "It's only been twenty minutes," he argued.

"That's what you paid for."

He pulled out his wallet, grabbing two more bills. "Money isn't an issue for me."

She scoffed, "Yeah, I can see that. How are you so loaded? You're only twenty seven."

Christian wasn't sure whether he should answer. He didn't want any paparazzi to be aware of his affairs, especially those that involved strip clubs and proposition random women. Another, more insidious, concern was that he wanted this woman to like him, not just his money. Any other time he would've been fine using his money to get who and what he wanted, but for some reason he wanted this exchange to be genuine.

"Need-to-know," he responded.

Ana sucked her teeth, "That's my line," she complained. "Rich daddy?"

"Sure," he stated. It wasn't actually a lie, his parents were wealthy.

Ana stood up, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. "You can save your money, I'm tired," she breathed, faking a yawn.

"You're kicking me out?"

She smirked. "Something like that."

"I didn't get to know you," he pointed out, "that was the deal."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to come back."

 ** _I tried to proofread this, but then got lazy. Sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews are appreciated._**

 ** _-Xoxo_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**I added some changes to Ana's life details. The character I'm envisioning is slightly different from E.L.'s version.**_

* * *

 _ **Saturday, November 28, 2014**_

 **Anastasia Rose Steele**

 **DOB** : September 10, 1992, Montesano, WA

 **Address:** 509 Wendigo Avenue, Apartment 13, Shady Oaks, Seattle, WA 98101

 **Mobile No** : 360 587 2364

 **Social Security No** : 467-46-4671

 **Banking Details:** Bank of America, Seattle, WA 98101

Account No: 364902 : $15,398 balance

 **Occupation:** Undergraduate Student

University of Washington College of Liberal Arts

\- English Major

 **GPA:** 3.75

 **Prior Education** : Montesano JR-SR High School

 **SAT Score:** 1950

 **Employment** : Vixen Strip club

292 Briar Lane NW, Seattle, WA 98101

(Part-time)

 **Father:** Raymond Steele

DOB: Sept. 1,1969

m Carla May Wilks Steele (May 1987)

 **Mother** : Carla May Wilks Steele

DOB: July 18,1970

m Raymond Steele (May 1987)

 **Political Affiliations:** None

 **Religious Affiliations** : Unknown

 **Sexual Orientation** : Presumably Heterosexual

 **Relationships** : Jose Rodriguez

\- January 2012 - August 2012

Ethan Kavanagh

\- January 2013 - December 2013

No others indicated at present

 **Criminal Offenses:** None

* * *

Christian poured over the report a dozen times, willing the pieces of paper to give him any bit of new information. Anastasia Steele seemed like any regular girl - which didn't satisfy Christian in the slightest. She had good grades, went to college for Christ's sake; so why would someone as ambitious as her be working at a strip club? She had to be in some sort of trouble, which the background report offered him no information into. He eyed her social security number for the tenth time. 467-46-4671? He almost chuckled aloud at the absurdity of the 'information.' Either she had a very interesting social number, or the records were falsified. He also honed in on her bank account - he didn't know strippers made that much, especially since she had only been working there for a couple months.

 _Something isn't right, here..._

Immediately his mind started to wander, concocting up all the possible scenarios to explain the reason for Ana's actions, along with the fact that she was fully-loaded without even obtaining a degree yet. There's no way in hell you could earn that much by spinning around on a pole and shaking your ass. It had to be something bad: drug rings, sexual trafficking, black market organ donations...

 _Good God, Grey - get a grip._

He shook himself out of his thoughts, noting how preposterous all of his theories were. The petite, pale, innocent-looking brunette he had become acquainted with could never be capable of those types of actions. If he ever wanted to know what exactly was going on in her life, he'd have to ask her himself.

"Taylor!" He yelled, his voice echoing throughout his office.

Within a few seconds, his bodyguard and most trusted security personnel stood at the threshold of his office.

"Sir," Taylor answered, poised and attentive.

Christian stood, tightening his tie and grabbing his suit jacket from behind his chair.

"I need you to take me to 509 Wendigo Avenue."

* * *

Christian peered out from behind the glass of his Audi's tinted windows. Taylor had parked the car inconspicuously behind Ana's apartment building. As they sat, evaluating the atmosphere of Ana's current living situation, Christian felt like a fool. He had driven twenty miles to sit and wait outside of some random girl's apartment building, much like a stalker would do. He didn't know the first thing about this girl, nor did he understand why he was even so interested. If he needed a sub, Elena could find the best fit for him within an hour, so what made him have such an insatiable urge for Anastasia Rose Steele?

He didn't even know if she would be interested.

Christian ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He sighed deeply, trying to understand what the hell was going on with him. He didn't chase women, they chased him. If he wanted something, he'd simply snap his fingers - and bam - it'd appear. He didn't like the idea of him investing so much time and energy into one single person; probably showing Scarlett Heat more attention than his own family. The only real factor he ever focused on was his job, his mergers and acquisitions. Ms. Steele was slowly becoming an obsession - like a deal he just had to close. The thought worried him.

"Turn the car around, Taylor," Christian ordered, his tone bleak. Taylor had seen him at his worst times, but he couldn't help but to feel embarrassed that his team member was a witness to his obsession with a virtual stranger. Christian took pride in the fact that he rarely cared - about people, emotions, or anything other than money. He couldn't afford to suddenly start feeling and acting differently.

"Yes, Sir," Taylor responded, immediately starting the car and shifting the gear into reverse. Christian rolled his shoulders back, resolving himself to end this absurd fascination with Anastasia Steele. He would call Elena in the morning and discuss his need for a new submissive, and then he would go visit his mother. All of the effort he had put into uncovering the secrets of Anastasia made him feel guilty - he could recite her SAT score and account number verbatim, but he didn't even know his mom's favorite song.

As he felt the car's tires glide smoothly over the concrete, he relaxed and sunk further into his seat. He absentmindedly looked out of the right door window, his eyes not searching for anything specific, until he spotted the wisps of mahogany hair blowing in the wind. Well, so he thought.

"Stop the car," he blurted, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

As he exited the car, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, or what excuse he was going to use for how he had found her address. With the amount of questions he had asked her last week, surely she would think that he was stalking her.

Which he was, slightly.

Even though he knew how badly it would look, showing up at her apartment out of nowhere, he couldn't allow himself to sit idly by while the events unfolded in front of him. Anastasia's usually pale skin was flushed bright red, her face streaked greyish-black from her mascara running. There was a tall, blonde man that stood towering over her, his hands grasped firmly around her forearms. He shook her, the force from his movements causing her hair to whip violently back and forth, both of them yelling at each other incoherently. She tried to push him away, but he barely budged, nor did his hold on her arms loosen.

Christian quickened his pace, in fear that the scene in front of him would take the exact turn he didn't want it to. Ana pounded on the man's chest, which only aggravated him. He gripped her arms tighter, causing her to cry out and pull away once again, only to be pulled closer. He shouted at her, their faces only inches apart. Christian's feet hit the ground harder as he broke into a slight run. As the man lifted his arm and reached back, Christian emerged beside Ana, slightly shocking both the man and her. The blonde lowered his arm, but didn't release his hold on Ana.

"Is there a problem?" Christian asked, his voice ice cold. He stared at the man, both his jaw and fists tightened.

"Do I know you?" The man retorted, staring back just as hard.

"No, but if you did, I'm sure you wouldn't treat my friends in such an unkind manner," Christian growled, daring the man to test his patience. It had been a week since he last had sex - he would be more than happy to release some of his tension on the asshole.

The man scoffed, letting Ana go. She stumbled, falling backwards onto her butt. Christian gently grabbed her underneath the crooks of her arm, helping her stand up. "Oh, another friend?" The man mocked, "Are you fucking him too?"

Ana looked down, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't reply, which caused the man to step forward, his expression wild. Before he could get closer than a millimeter, Christian blocked his passage to Ana, stepping in front of her. The two men came face to face, neither of them backing down. "I think you should leave," Christian suggested, his fists balled at his side. The man stared intensely, before shaking his head and stepping back.

"Whatever," he mumbled, "I'll be back Thursday," he stated, peering over Christian's shoulder to acknowledge Ana.

He turned away and walked to his car, skidding out of the parking lot and racing into the sunset.

I hope the bastard crashes his car, Christian thought to himself. He turned towards Ana, searching her face for any hint as to what had just happened. She meekly looked up at him, her cheeks tinted red with embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked, his tone slightly softer.

She wiped her face, the black streaks slightly fading off of her skin. "I look like shit, don't I?" Before Christian could respond, she stopped him, "Don't answer that." She chuckled, but it was devoid of humor. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, biting her lip. "Are you stalking me?"

"No," Christian lied, "I have a cousin who lives here." He was proud of himself for being able to come up with an excuse in such a short amount of time. "I was on my way home when I say the, uh… Commotion."

She looked down again, sniffing quietly. "Sorry about that," she apologized, "I'm sure the whole building heard us," she chuckled again, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Who was that?"

"Some asshole," she sighed, waving her hand dismissively. "Not a person of interest."

"Are you sure about that? He seemed pretty hands on," Christian grumbled, his blood starting to boil. "Is he around a lot? Because I don't think that's the type of company you want to keep-"

"He's not usually like that," she interrupted, "Not as… Physical, I mean."

Christian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

Ana frowned, crossing her arms once again. "You don't even know him."

"I don't need to, I've already seen enough. He was going to hit you," he hissed, his eyes narrowed.

She shrugged, "I don't know… Maybe. But I think it's pretty convenient how you happen to have a cousin who lives in the same building I do, after asking me all of those questions," she accuses, changing the subject.

"Stop projecting," Christian countered.

"Stop dodging my questions. What do you want from me?" She pleaded.

"I… Nothing," Christian lied. "I thought you were interesting, that's all. My cousin just so happens to live where you do - that's completely out of my control."

"Fine," she acquiesced, "but why did you come running over here? You could've just left…"

"And let him do God knows what?" Christian scoffed, "No, thank you."

"Well… I appreciate that. I don't know when he would've left if you didn't say something."

Christian didn't respond, not sure what to say. Of course she'd want him to leave now - it was evident that she wasn't interested, and perhaps that was a good thing. Judging from the ordeal that he had just witnessed, it was likely that Ana had a little too much baggage for Christian to handle.

Ana rubbed her arms, shivering slightly. It was then that Christian noticed that she only wore a thin t-shirt and a pair of jeans, her feet bare. "You should get inside," he suggested, but he was already steering her towards the door. She nodded, allowing him to guide her. His hand was on the small of her back, the warmth from his skin feeling comforting against her cold body.

Christian opened the door wide, allowing her to enter first. As she stepped inside the building, he stood frozen at the threshold. He wasn't sure whether he should follow her - would that be too much? He already knew that he most likely had come on too strong; he had shown up at her apartment for God's sake. With each passing day, he felt his opportunity slipping away - if he wanted to persuade her to be his submissive, he'd have to be charming, not a creepy stalker.

He stood up tall, his face impassive. "I guess I'll see you later, then," he announced, his foot holding the door open. He didn't cross any further, nor did he allow any emotion to show. That had been his first mistake - investing himself too much into the conquest.

"Oh…" Ana said quietly, her mouth slightly open, as if she wanted to add more.

Christian nodded and turned away, "Or, you could come in - if you want," Ana called out, awkwardly wrapping her arms around herself.

Christian peered over his shoulder, her cheeks flushed a slight pink. She was inviting him in? Perhaps she was more interested than she had let on. He decided to humor her, but reminded himself to stay distant. It wouldn't be best for her to know his true intentions at the moment.

"Sure. If you're offering."

He followed her inside, sneaking a quick peek at her ass. Somehow, it looked better covered up. She walked down the hallway, the sound of her bare feet the only disruption to the stark silence. It was after six o'clock, which meant that most adults and kids were home - Christian expected the building to be a bit louder.

"I like being close to the exit, but it really sucks when you can hear your neighbors walking upstairs," she called over her shoulder absentmindedly. She turned the corner, arriving at her door: Apartment 13. "It's a pretty small building, only about three floors," she continued, chattering away to fill up the space of dead silence.

She opened the door, simply stepping inside. Christian concluded that she hadn't locked the door behind her due to the whole incident he had just witnessed. As she pushed the harsh man out of her building, the last thing she was probably thinking of was to lock her door. It still irritated him, however. He thought of it as a very irresponsible thing to do.

He'd have to inform her of the amount of crazy people lurking around every corner. The world really wasn't a safe place.

"How long have you lived here?" Christian asked.

"Almost four years," she answered, standing behind the door as she waited for Christian to enter. "I think I'll be moving soon - I need the space."

His eyes roamed around the room, taking in the warm, homey feel of her apartment. All of the furniture was decorated in creamy shades of oranges, browns and whites, her linen couch a burnt orange, with one eggshell colored ottoman placed in front, the other adjacent to the sofa. A brown coffee table sat in the center of her living room, magazines and remotes scattered haphazardly. Two lamps sat in each corner, the shades composed of pecan colored dangling crystals. Her kitchen was not placed much further, the fridge and stove stainless steel. There was a small breakfast bar situated at the entrance to her kitchen, three stark, white bar stools arranged neatly in front of the bar. To the right of the kitchen was her dining room, where an umber colored chandelier hung above the small round table. Four chairs were placed around the table, rust colored placemats and cloth napkins set out decoratively.

For a stripper, she had surprisingly good taste.

"Sorry for the mess," she apologized meekly. Christian raised an eyebrow.

"Where?" He asked, taking another look at the pristinely decorated apartment. As he analyzed a little further, he did notice small objects scattered around, such as a sock underneath the couch, or a candy wrapper on the kitchen counter. He shrugged. After seeing Elliot's apartment, he was sure no one could ever be messier.

"Do you want some tea? I can make some tea," she offered. Before he could answer, she sauntered into the kitchen, grabbing a kettle from the wooden cabinet.

"Not much of a tea drinker," Christian muttered.

"Oh… I have wine," she suggested, dropping the kettle into the sink, "Or some really cheap beer… Oh! And water."

"Water is fine," Christian answered, looking at a picture frame that hung on the wall. Ana smiled brightly at the camera, the sun's reflection making it seem as if her eyes twinkled. There was a little boy that stood in front of her, her arms wrapped around him as she crouched down. His smile was equally as bright and wide, his eyes the same shade of blue.

 _Must be a little brother, or nephew,_ Christian thought.

"Here ya go." Ana handed Christian a cup of water. He eyed the cup oddly.

"Scooby-doo?" He asked, semi-amused.

"It's an excellent show," she grumbled, frowning slightly.

She sat on the couch, Christian following her lead. "I like what you've done with the place… Very bohemian," he remarked.

She half smiled. "Thanks. I'm imagining your house looks nothing like this?"

"Not even close," he admitted.

She turned towards him, tucking one leg underneath her. She propped an elbow on the couch, resting her head in her hand. "Okay, so you know my name, have been to my workplace - twice, might I add - and now you're in my home. I think it's only fair I learn a little about you."

Christian sat his cup on the coffee table. "What do you want to know?"

"A name would be a good place to start," she muttered dryly.

"My name is Christian."

"Last name?"

"Need-to-know."

She rolled her eyes. "I never should've never introduced that line to you."

"I'm not an interesting guy," he argued, "I'm sure there's nothing else you'd want to know about me."

"Of course there's more I want to know about you. What are your fears? Your dreams? Your aspirations in life? What drives you to wake up each morning?" She asked, her eyes glossing over slightly, as if she were daydreaming.

He scoffed. "I'm afraid of nothing," he started, but realized that was a lie. There was one thing he was afraid… Deathly afraid of. However, he decided to continue without explaining further. "I dream of curing world hunger, my aspiration in life is to do something meaningful, and what drives me to wake up each morning…" He trailed off. What did inspire him to live another day? As he thought about the question, he wasn't really sure. Of course he loved his business and his family, but he always felt so… Empty. Life was more of a routine to him than an actual experience. "Is my job," he finished, yet with another lie. "Your turn."

She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing. "Well… I'm afraid clowns and spiders, I dream of being a well-known author - or publicist, I have no preference - my aspiration in life is to make a name for myself, and what drives me to wake up every morning… Is my family," she finished, her eyes taking on that same glint from earlier.

Anastasia Steele sounded well-rounded… Too well-rounded. "What is a future author or publicist doing working at Vixen?" Christian asked, his tone sardonic.

She pursed her lips. "I have my reasons."

"We all do," he admitted, "but I'm asking for yours."

"Why is it so important to you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. She sat up, turning slightly away.

Christian took a deep breath, "Well, I like to get to know a person before I imagine myself with them in the future."

She whipped her head around, her eyes wide. She frowned, more in confusion than sadness. "You… Why?" She asked, completely puzzled as to why someone like Christian would be interested in her.

"The heart wants what it wants," he joked, then added seriously, "Like I said before - you're interesting. There's not many people who can hold my interest."

"And why is that?"

"I have very specific tastes," he replied.

Ana bit her lip, causing a stirring in his pants. He looked away, taking a deep breath.

 _Get it together, Grey._

"So do I," she agreed.

He turned back around, his heart slightly sinking. Was that her way of rejecting him?

"And," she continued, "I think you fit along the line of those standards.

He raised his eyebrows, not shocked, but yet not completely expecting the reaction he had received from her. It was… Relieving.

"Then let me treat you to dinner."

She crossed her arms. "No. I'm not sure what every man's fascination with feeding a woman is, but it's quite annoying."

"Well you need to eat-"

"And I do, but I'd rather get to know you while my mouth isn't filled with steak. How about a day in the park?"

He debated the idea. It would be much easier to discuss contracts and BDSM at his apartment, instead of at a park filled with soccer moms and toddlers, but he realized he needed to play his cards right. "Fine, it's a date."

She smirked, pleased with herself. She looked at the clock, her eyes widening. "Oh my gosh, I completely forgot I had to do something. Uh, you gotta go!" She said, jumping up. She grabbed his cup off of the coffee table and tossed it into the sink.

He stood, watching her fly around the room. She threw on a pair of boots, a thick, wool jacket, and grabbed her car keys off of the console table. He slightly smiled as he watched her - she looked like a Christmas elf on LSD. Without the heels, she was much, much shorter.

"Do you need my number - to schedule anything?"

Christian opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "Ah, you'll probably figure it out," she muttered to herself, waving her hand in the air.

She catches on quick.

Christian walked towards her apartment door, preparing to let himself out. "I'll text you the details," he stated, before stepping on a soft, medium-sized object. He looked down, a brown and red sock monkey puppet placed underneath his foot. He bent down to pick it up. "How cute," he mumbled, his voice slightly puzzled.

Ana snatched the puppet away from him. "Yeah, sounds like a plan!" She threw it onto the couch before pushing him out of the door. "Do me a favor," she stated, before Christian had completely emerged around the corner. He stopped, his head turned around towards her.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever decide to become an actual stalker - be a little bit more discreet next time."

* * *

 _ **Did anyone catch my Wendigo reference? XD I hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews are appreciated.**_

 _ **-Xoxo**_


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Ana stepped out of her car, she knew she had dived head-first into the full wrath of Kate Kavanagh and her miniature side-kick. Both of the blondes glared at her, their arms crossed and an exasperated expression present on their faces. Ana rolled her eyes. Surely Kate had talked him into making that stance before she arrived.

Ana hopped up the porch steps, enveloping Jaxson in her arms. She placed a loud, wet kiss onto his cheek. He groaned, using his small, stubby hand to wipe her kiss away. "Gross, Mommy," he complained. She scoffed. "What? You just taste so delicious," she exclaimed, trailing kisses along his cheeks and neck. He squealed, giggling as he softly pushed her away.

"Oh, no, no, no," Kate started, shaking her head and sucking her teeth, "We're still mad at you."

Jax nodded his head in agreement, re-crossing his arms. He pouted, his lower lip quivering. "Mommy always late."

Ana sighed, guilt sinking in. She ran her fingers through his hair, cupping his face gently. "Mommy's sorry," she whispered apologetically, leaving another kiss onto his cheek. She scooped him up, placing him on her hip as she turned towards Kate.

Smoothing things over with her would _not_ be as easy. "Did you know I'm going to be late for work… Again?" Kate said, huffing angrily.

"I'm sorry, Kate. I was studying and time passed me by…" She trailed off.

Kate looked at her suspiciously, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Was someone at your apartment?" She asked dubiously, narrowing her eyes at Ana.

Ana waved her hand dismissively, "No one of importance." She stepped down off of the porch, leaving Kate to get ready for work. "I'm really sorry, Kate," she murmured, guilt and sadness present in her voice, "It won't happen again."

Kate rolled her eyes, "How many times have you said that?"

* * *

"What do you want for dinner, Baby?" Ana asked, peering at Jaxson's face through the rearview mirror. He was strapped into his car seat, coloring sloppily in his coloring book. He was deeply focused, his right eyebrow furrowed as he stared down at his book.

"Macdownals," he responded, not lifting his eyes off of his drawing.

Ana frowned, less than pleased with his answer. She knew that for a boy Jaxson's age, proper nutrition was key; however, she was always too busy to cook a proper meal. Fast food was the norm for them - not that she liked it that way.

"What about something healthier, honey?"

He shrugged, not at all engaged in the conversation. He switched out his red crayon for a blue one, coloring enthusiastically onto the paper. Ana took advantage of his distraction, turning into the local gas station only a block from their house. There'd have to be something slightly healthy there… Right?

"Be right back, baby," Ana stated, turning off the car and removing the keys from the ignition. She closed the door, locking the car behind her and scurrying into the convenience store. As she browsed the store's tiny selection of food - taking quick glances at Jaxson every thirty seconds - she picked up two fruit cups and two packaged salads, hoping Jax wouldn't be a picky eater that night. She grabbed a box of granola bars - his favorite - just in case he was feeling argumentative.

She paid for their small meal, her shopping bag in hand as she pushed open the store doors. She had made it halfway to her car, when suddenly, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head to the right, narrowing her eyes in the blue-purple light of the approaching twilight. She tried to shrug off the whole ordeal, blaming it on insomnia, but she could've swore that she saw a black figure move as soon as she turned her head back around.

She hoped it wasn't who she thought it was.

She quickly unlocked the car door and placed the shopping bag in the backseat next to Jaxson, who was still coloring intently, and hopped back into the driver's' seat. She tried to calm her racing heart, but panic and anxiety quickly spread its way through her body.

 _Calm down, Ana, no one is after you…_

"Are you cold, sweety?" She asked, turning her attention to Jaxson, who was obviously more important than her paranoid thoughts. She peeked over her shoulder to look at him. She was afraid she had left him too long, even though it had only been a couple of minutes.

"Unh uh." Jax shook his head, turning away from his coloring page to look at her. "Jax wants nuggets," He stated, his doe eyes pleading as he stared at her.

Ana groaned. He was definitely going to be argumentative that night.

* * *

He took another look at his watch, his jaw tightening as he saw another minute go by. Was she going to stand him up? He ran a hand through his hair, anger slowly creeping its way up his spine.

"She'll be here, Sir," Taylor assured, his eyes scanning over their surroundings.

Christian released a quick breath, curtly nodding his head. He knew Taylor was trying to help, but he really did _not_ need his employee's sympathy at the moment. It wasn't as if Christian were dying to have this date - he simply wanted to charm Ana so that he would have a better chance with her. He didn't need her, he wanted her - and he could have any submissive he wanted. If anything, Ana should be lucky that he was interested.

 _Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Grey..._

"We'll be leaving in ten minutes," Christian announced, giving Ana a few more minutes to show up. If Christian hated anything, it was waiting. He made sure to always be punctual - it was one of the many virtues he valued. He expected the people he brought into his life to mimic his actions, and so far, Ana had not done too well. She'd need serious training if they were to have a future together.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," Ana called out, jogging towards Christian and Taylor. She stopped once she was in close proximity to the both of them, placing her hands on her hips. "Usually I rely on microwave time, but our apartment building had a power shortage so I had to check the clock on the living room wall, which I didn't even know was five minutes late until I checked the time on my phone and I realized I only had, like, ten minutes to get to the park on time, but then I had to drop off Jax…" Ana rambled, out-of breath. She stopped and took a deep breath. "It was a huge mess," she finished, smoothing down her hair and crossing her arms.

"Who's Jax?" Christian asked, still irritated at the fact that she didn't show up on time.

Ana bit her lip, shrugging her shoulders. "So, do you wanna take a walk around the perimeter?" She asked, changing the subject. She turned towards Taylor, just noticing his presence. She frowned and took a slight step back. "Hello," she murmured, puzzled.

"Oh, this is Taylor, my -" Christian broke his sentence off before answering, not wanting to divulge the fact that he needed a security team. Ana still didn't know about his personal life, nor did he want her to. For some reason, it was refreshing for someone to not know how much he was worth. To Ana, he was just another common guy. "- close friend," he continued. "I ran into him while I was waiting for you," Christian lied.

Ana nodded, giving Taylor a warm smile. She stretched her hand out, offering a handshake. Taylor took her hand, shaking it firmly. "I'm Ana," she informed.

"Taylor. Nice to meet you, ma'am," he responded. "I will see you later then, Mr. - Christian," Taylor said, stumbling over his words. He was so used to being formal with Christian. He walked away, but was simply going to find a discreet spot to keep an eye on Christian. As he settled in about one hundred yards away, near a busy coffee shop, he called back-up to position themselves at different locations.

"Mr. Christian?" Ana asked, her voice riddled with humor.

Christian shrugged. "Taylor is a little… Weird."

"Well, birds of a feather flock together," Ana jeered, bumping Christian slightly with her elbow.

He didn't respond, since she actually had a point. As he thought more about it, however, he remembered the girls Ana hung around with at her workplace.

Hopefully she wasn't like them…

"Shall we start walking?" He suggested, pushing his negative thoughts out of his mind. He was enjoying the exchange between them. If he were completely honest, he was enjoying the whole quest he had embarked on. His submissives were usually chosen from a file; he didn't have such up-close interactions with them like he was having with Ana. He was also never as intrigued by them as he was with Ana.

The whole experience was refreshing.

"Sure," she replied, following behind Christian.

"So…" he started, "what would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know - you're the one who asked me on the date," she said, "you choose."

Christian peered over at her, his eyebrow raised. "Really? You already know what I'm going to ask, then."

Ana pursed her lips, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I suppose I do… I guess I'll subject myself to your prying for an hour or so."

Christian nodded, walking aimlessly. He stared up into the mid-afternoon sky, contemplating what he should ask first. No matter how hard he tried, he doubted that she would ever admit the real reasons for her stripper lifestyle - that was up to his team to discern. So, he decided to completely throw her off track.

"What's your favorite color?" He asked, staring straight ahead.

Ana snapped her head towards him, wondering if he was serious. "Really?" she questioned, incredulous.

Christian nodded. "I've already explained to you… I'm interested."

Ana looked down, slightly blushing. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, sighing quietly. "Orange," she said, "as you can tell by my apartment."

Christian smirked. "Okay, your turn."

"My turn for what?" She asked, confused.

"I ask one, you ask one," he explained.

"Oh, okay… Well, what's your favorite color?"

"White."

"Technically that's not a color-"

"Please," Christian interrupted, "let's not have this argument."

Ana laughed, nodding in agreement. She couldn't remember how many times her and Kate had spent bickering with each other over whether white and black were actually colors.

"Okay, okay," she conceded.

"Favorite movie?" Christian inquired, kicking a pile of leaves as they navigated around errant kids and dogs on leashes.

"27 dresses," she responded.

Christian grimaced. What a terrible movie.

"Middle name?" She asked, blowing into her hands. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea for her to suggest a park date during the middle of winter in Seattle.

"Don't have one. Are you cold?" He asked, preparing to shrug off his coat.

"Oh, no, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Ana smiled. "That's sweet, but I don't think your coat will warm up my hands."

"We could stop walking and go inside," he suggested, "there's plenty of shops."

Ana pursed her lips, looking around at their options. There was a coffee shop, a bakery, some boutiques… "Hmm... Well, I am in the mood for a pastry."

"So I end up feeding you, after all," Christian murmured.

* * *

"Favorite song?" She asked in between bites of her pastry.

"Stairway to heaven," Christian stated, his face completely serious as he peered at Ana from behind his coffee mug.

"You're joking?" Ana asked dryly, trying to hold back her laughter.

Christian shook his head. "I'm not proud of the choices I've made," he muttered.

Ana laughed, her voice twinkling like wind chimes. She licked her fingers, which caused Christian to quickly look away as he tugged at his pants.

She constantly made him feel like a hormonal 15 year old.

He cautiously turned back towards her, thankful to notice that she no longer had her fingers between her lips. He didn't know what it was about her that drove him crazy. She looked similar to all of his other submissives, but she... Had a certain charm.

"I think it's cute," she admitted, "I wouldn't expect someone like you to listen to a song like that."

Christian placed his arms on the table, leaning forward with a dubious expression on his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're… Gruff. You look more like a silent, classical type."

"I'm that too," he confessed, "I prefer concertos, but ballads will always have a special place in my heart."

Ana smirked and bit her lip. Christian reached forward, pulling softly on her chin. Her lip fell from between the prison of her teeth. "Please don't do that," Christian whispered.

Ana inhaled quickly, the back of her neck prickling. "Why?" She asked quietly, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Because it makes me have thoughts… That I shouldn't be having at the moment."

"They're just thoughts," she pointed out, "they can't hurt anyone."

Christian leaned back. "When I have thoughts, they turn into reality."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"That depends on what your version of 'bad' is," he responded.

"Okay, now you've got me intrigued," she admitted. "C'mon, elaborate."

"If we're airing out my secrets, it's only fair to divulge yours too."

Ana sighed, looking away. "I don't think I can do that."

"And why not?" he questioned, "is it really that serious?"

She shrugged, running her hands over her forearms. She huffed, feeling slightly annoyed. "Maybe - maybe not. The real question is why you're so worried."

"I'm not," he declared.

"Then stop asking," she challenged.

He groaned, running both hands through his hair. "You see, I would if you just told me."

"I don't know you, you expect me to trust you?" She asked, incredulous. "My God, you are entitled."

"That's not what-"

"I have to go," Ana stated abruptly, standing up and gathering her belongings. She placed her tote bag across her shoulder, a harrowed and anxious expression on her face.

"Are you sure?" Christian asked, following her lead and standing up. He looked over his shoulder, trying to find out what Ana had seen that affected her. "Are you okay?" He questioned.

"Yeah, fine," she replied, walking past him to find the exit.

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Seriously, what's wrong?" He asked, searching her face for any signs or clues as to what was happening.

"Nothing, I-" she stated, but then stopped. She took another peek out of the window, her breathing starting to quicken. "I… Just forgot I had to pick something up. That's all. Raincheck?" She suggested, ripping her arm from his grasp. She turned back around, quickening her pace.

Before she left, however, she turned on her heel and acknowledged Christian. "Actually, I don't think a raincheck would be wise," she insisted, "I have a lot of shit going on and I'm definitely sure you don't want to deal with that - and honestly, I don't think I have the strength or time to care about anyone other than myself and… Family."

She scurried out of the door, briskly walking across the park. Christian whipped out his phone, pressing 5 on his keypad. The dial tone rang once before Taylor picked up his phone, answering curtly. "Sir?"

"Follow her," Christian snapped, pressing the end button on his phone. He watched as Ana half-ran away from the shop. Every few seconds or so, she would peer over her shoulder, as if she was being watched.

 _What the hell is this girl hiding?_

Christian snapped out of his reverie when he heard a phone buzz quietly underneath the table. He leaned down, scooping the phone off of the floor.

 _She must've forgotten it..._

Christian knew it was an invasion of her privacy - but when had he ever cared about anyone's personal space? He unlocked her phone - thankful that she didn't have a password installed - and went through her messages. The most recent one had came in a minute ago, which was probably what caused her phone to vibrate. As Christian read the message, he became even more confused.

 _ **Friday, December 4, 2014**_

 _ **Ethan**_

 _ **I deserve to see my son, Ana.**_

* * *

 _ **I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated.**_

 _ **-Xoxo**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**If you ever get a notification that a new chapter has been posted, but there's nothing there, it was probably just me making changes to things or deleting certain A/N's. Don't fret. I really wish the site had a better notification program.**_

* * *

He sat desolate, alone in his office. Was it possible that he was cursed? No matter what he did, misfortune always fell upon him. He finds a girl, obviously very sexually liberated - and not the type to seem shy to new adventures - with just the right amount of independence and willingness to comply to orders, that made her the perfect submissive; not to mention her tight, round ass and silky smooth skin.

Christian sighed and put his head in his hands. For the first time in twelve years, he was feeling actual disappointment. The feeling was alien to him, almost _painful_. He was happy to live his life cold and unfeeling, completely apathetic to the world around him. Now, he had gotten himself immersed with some girl… Some foolish, quirky, attractive girl that had a child.

He sure knew how to pick him, huh?

Christian didn't necessarily hate children… Just didn't like them. They were loud, needy, and messy. They were too dependent. The thought of someone needing you every single second of the day, relying on you for their survival, was absolutely appalling to him. He couldn't fathom how someone could willingly sign up for such an arduous task as being a parent. Obviously it required a certain degree of patience and tenderness… Which clearly Christian lacked.

And for that reason, he could no longer involve himself with Anastasia. The thought of him having to find another submissive greatly angered him. He slid his office chair back, stomping over to his small bourbon cabinet to pour himself a drink. He rubbed his temple with his left hand, taking a deep breath. It felt like he had lost one of his buyers, or been swindled out of one of his business ventures. For him to have the perfect vision of what he wanted, and then to have it all destroyed in the blink of an eye, infuriated him. He couldn't remember the last time he _hadn't_ gotten his way.

He made sure to play it right, too. He had toned down his attitude, followed the wishes and whims of that pale, mousy girl, made sure not to give too much away… All for nothing. He had to settle for a girl that _wasn't_ Ana… And that felt like defeat.

"Damnit," Christian hissed, slamming his glass down on top of the cabinet. The more he thought about his current situation, the angrier he got. He loosened his tie and ran his hands through his hair, pacing up and down the length of his office. Just to prove a point, _just_ to not fail, he _still_ wanted to pursue her. Even if their relationship didn't work - it couldn't work - he wanted to be able to say that he could've gotten that girl. He wanted to have her just to have her… It was quite immature if you thought about it, but Christian was a petulant man, after all.

He wanted her fine print on the contract, wanted one session in the playroom, just to say that he succeeded. Just to say that he could have anyone he wanted, convince anyone to do anything he wanted. It was a power play, or that's what he truly believed. A faint, small tickling within his subconscious knew otherwise, aware of his desires and motives before he even knew them himself.

Was it worth the effort? He thought to himself. What if he fucked her once, then ended up wanting more? Could he simply cut her off without an explanation, without a second thought? Anything long term was already off the table, with her child and all. Christian would have to share her, share her time, body, and attention with a drooling, whining, soul-sucking child. He refused. The long term aspects of any type of relationship between them were already settled, it was how he'd react to their short term that worried him.

 _It'll be fine… I'll be fine. She'll be fine,_ he told himself. Truthfully, he didn't care, nor did he dedicate any time to rationalizing his actions. He wanted her - it was simple. He didn't care if it was for one night, one day, one week; he needed to know that Anastasia Steele would give herself to him.

He needed to know that he was still in control.

With his mind already made up, Christian could relax. The feeling of helplessness had subsided; finally he could map out the next course of action he would take. He took his last swig of liquor, leaving the glass on the cabinet. He sauntered back towards his desk, removing his phone from one of the drawers. He would call Elena, surely she would know the best way to deal with someone new to the BDSM community. She _did_ turn him out, after all.

He opened his email app, preparing to send a private message to Elena, when suddenly his phone vibrated and a blocked number flashed across the screen. He frowned at the image before him, suspicious of how someone could possibly have access to his personal phone number. The few business associates that called his private cell were listed in his contacts, along with his family and security team. All other calls were taken care of by Andrea at GEH. Could it be a telemarketer? He thought, but immediately dismissed the idea. His cell phone number was almost as hidden as his sordid involvement with BDSM, there was no way someone could publicly access that information, not to mention that the caller was purposely hiding his or her identity.

He hit decline, then promptly commanded Taylor to see him in his office. Something about the whole ordeal felt off to him. Not even thirty seconds later, his phone flashed again, with the same number printed across the screen. He was starting to get frustrated now, even tempted to answer and show the unknown person what exactly happens when they call his phone unannounced. He declined the call once again, his jaw tightening with irritation.

The third time the number appeared, Christian didn't hesitate to answer. Faintly, he wondered where the hell Taylor was, and made a mental note to scold him for his lack of promptness.

"What?" Christian hissed, slamming his fist onto the desk.

He waited for a reply, but all he could hear on the other line was deep, raspy breathing. Christian frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. After the day he had just had, he was _not_ in the mood for games.

"Who is this?" He demanded, his voice cold and threatening, "Tell me your name this instant!"

The unknown caller continued to breathe for about five more seconds, then suddenly the line went dead. "Hello?!" Christian asked, his voice ragged. He looked at his cell phone's screen to realize that the caller had hung up. He placed his blackberry on his desk, pursing his lips. The whole situation puzzled and upset him, especially since he had no way of tracking the person who had dialed his number.

Taylor appeared at the threshold of his office, his hands at his side as he stood expectantly. "Sir?" He asked, slightly concerned at Christian's current state. "Is everything okay?"

Christian looked at him, eager to tear him a new one, but simply said nothing. Something about that call didn't sit right with him. It wasn't some twelve year old trying to be funny, the call felt ominous. The caller almost felt… Threatening. Christian wasn't scared, but he _was_ incensed. Who was stupid enough to challenge Christian Grey?

"I think you and the team might have someone to watch out for," he answered.

* * *

"Where's Scarlett?" He shouted over the loud music, a $50 bill already outstretched towards Raven. "I have a surprise for her."

Raven smiled and snatched the bill from him, placing it into the crook of her bra. "I think you're becoming my new favorite customer," she remarked. "She's getting ready, she'll be on in ten."

"Where's the dressing room?" He asked.

"That way," she said, pointing to a small room to the left of them. "But you can't go back there."

Christian nodded, taking a sip of his drink before leaving. He set the glass on the counter and wiped his mouth before making his way towards the dressing room. Raven had said that he couldn't go back there, but she didn't say he couldn't try. Unlike the private dance area, there was no bouncer stationed outside the room. Luckily for Christian, tonight it was very crowded, so he easily blended in with the horde of desperate, lonely old men.

He cautiously looked around, making sure that no security personnel were watching him. Even if he did successfully get into the room, he wasn't so sure the ladies would take too kindly to a strange man encroaching on their territory.

 _Well, it's not like I haven't already seen every inch of their body…_

Once the coast was clear, he ducked through the door, quickly but quietly shutting it behind him. There were about ten girls inside, each stationed in front of their own mirror. Some girls sat down applying lipstick and mascara, while others were rearranging their wigs and corsets. Most of the girls were young, some looking so youthful that it actually worried Christian. He was sure one of the girls couldn't have been older than 17.

 _Do their fathers know they're doing this?_

He stood near the door for a good ten seconds before someone actually noticed him standing there. A short, round redhead peered over at him, a slow smile making its way across her face. "Girls, we have company," she announced, "Is this another one of your fuckbuddies, Lola?" She teased, causing a tall, petite blonde to swat at her head.

"Shut up, chubby chaser," she hissed. The redhead laughed, giving the girl the middle finger.

The redhead turned away from the mirror, looking Christian up and down. She crossed her arms. "Looking for someone in particular? If not, I can be your girl for the night," she murmured, a seductive lilt present in her voice.

Christian cleared his throat, more annoyed than flattered. Women threw themselves at him all the time - eventually it gets old. "Unfortunately I am," he responded. "Is Scarlett around?" Christian rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, the many women in the room staring at him. Some of them sent him lustful looks and pleasant smiles, while others were too shy to look at him for long.

The redhead rolled her eyes, turning back around to look at her reflection. "Why does _she_ get all the rich ones?" She grumbled under her breath. She grabbed a thin, clear plastic strip of some sort and placed it onto her top row of teeth, closing her mouth and running her tongue along her teeth. She opened her mouth and smiled at the mirror before calling over shoulder, "Scarlett! One of your sugar daddies is here!" Christian took note of the bitter edge to her voice.

He could hear footsteps coming from the other end of the room as Ana pushed her way through the orange, beaded curtains. "Shut the fuck up, Trixie," Ana mumbled, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. Her eyes immediately flitted to Christian, who reached into his pocket and retrieved her phone, dangling it theatrically. "Forgot something?" He asked.

Ana bit her lip and crossed her arms, walking towards him. Christian expected her to stop in front of him, but instead she pushed past him and grabbed the doorknob. "Keep it - I already got a new one," she whispered, looking down.

Before she could fully get out the door, Christian grabbed her arm. "Can we talk?" He asked lowly, lifting her face to look at him, his eyes peering deeply into hers.

"About what?" She said, ripping her arm out of his grasp. "I already told you that it's best if you stay away."

Christian sighed, shaking his head. "What are you so afraid of?" He asked, almost pleading. From the moment he met this girl, she was one of the few people that he could tell was hiding more than he was. She was a mystery, an enigma… And he wanted to learn everything about her, to make her his. A sort of longing throbbed in the pit of his stomach, a longing to conquer her body and mind. She was the ultimate merger and acquisition.

She huffed, closing her eyes tightly. When she reopened them, her powder blue eyes were moist, a layer of her armor chipped away. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen her.

"Nothing," she lied, "I would just appreciate it if you left me alone." She walked out of the door, Christian staring at her mahogany strands as they cascaded down her back, bouncing with each step.

He groaned. Ana was going to be a challenge… And for some reason he liked that.

"Tsk, tsk," Trixie stated, sucking her teeth. Christian peered over at her. "Haven't you learned, buddy?" She asked, "You can't love a whore."

* * *

"Oh, God!" Ana grumbled, stamping her feet. "Don't you take the hint?" She yelled, rolling her eyes at Christian.

He stood leaning against her car, a mocking and sarcastic expression on his face. "Actually, no. I'm very persistent."

"As I can see," she hissed. "You know, I'm thinking of filing a restraining order. You're starting to become kind of a stalker."

"There are ways to get around a restraining order," Christian remarked matter-of-factly, then frowned when he realized how creepy he sounded, "but I don't think that will be necessary."

"Oh, really?" Ana asked, her voice lilting sardonically. "Not from the looks of it."

She crossed her arms, her lips formed into a pout. Christian faintly thought of how cute she looked, then scolded himself for his wayward thinking.

 _She's not supposed to be cute, she's supposed to be fuckable. Don't lose sight of the goal, Grey._

Ana was nothing more than a game, a test of skill, you could say. He wanted to make her vulnerable, naked… To uncover her secrets and get her to submit to him. Nothing more, nothing less. Referring to her as "cute" would get him nowhere.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his eyes softening. He put on his good guy mask, needing to do damage control for his rash actions. "I was just… Worried. You took off pretty soon the other day."

She nodded. "Something… Came up."

"Something or someone?" Christian asked, hinting at Ana's weird behavior before she left the shop.

She frowned, backing up defensively. "I don't think that's any of your business," she snapped. "You're in front of my car, so I'd appreciate it if you moved!" She growled, shoving Christian's arm. Her attempt was feeble, but Christian played along, moving his body over to the side. "You know?" She started, "You're _really_ beginning to piss me off."

"Sorry, it's a habit," he quipped.

Ana dug into her bag, looking for her car keys. She ignored his smart-ass remark, eager to get out of his sight. Christian tugged on her jacket, causing her to sigh and put her bag down, her eyes boring into his.

"Look around you," he demanded, gesturing towards the broken sidewalks of the street and the seedy alleyways surrounding the building, "this isn't a nice neighborhood. You're small, pretty… Vulnerable. Is this really where you want to be day in and day out? A girl like you has a bright future, people who care about her… Depend on her," Christian stated knowingly, raising his eyebrows.

Ana narrowed her eyes, turning her head suspiciously. "What are you getting at?" She asked.

"I'm not getting at anything, just stating the obvious. It's clear you're in trouble, but do you think you can protect yourself? It wouldn't be hard to snatch you away out here."

Ana gulped, licking her lips nervously. "I think I should go," she whispered.

"No, I'm not done yet," Christian insisted. "Stripping gives you fast money - lots of it, but at what price? Anyone can walk into that club, ask about you, find out information, show up at your car…" He trailed off. "Wouldn't you prefer a safer option? I think your family would."

Ana looked down, clutching her jacket tightly. She fingered her zipper, the gears turning in her head. She glanced at Christian, pursing her lips. She shifted her weight from her right foot to her left. "I don't have any other options…" She whispered.

"Sure you do," he argued.

"Like what?" She asked, frowning.

"Come with me and I'll tell you."


End file.
